The Fifteen Comforts of Matrimony: Responses from Men. VariousЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Happy were Man, when born as free as Air,

      Did he that freedom as he ought, prefer;

      But the first Thing he sets his Heart upon,

      Is to be Married, and to be undone:

      On some young Girl he casts his wanton Eyes,

      And wooes her with fine Complements and Toys.

      But that's not all—he grows in Love at last,

      And is impatient till those Joys he taste:

      Nor do's the wishing Virgin disagree,

      In what she longs to taste as well as he;

      Married they are—no Couple for a while

      Enjoy such Pleasure, Fortune seems to smile:

      But all's a Dream, from which in time they wake,

      And now their Breasts of other Cares partake:

      She grows true Woman, sullen, proud, and high,

      Complains he keeps her not accordingly,

      To what she brought—wants This rich Thing, and That

      Until she runs him o'er Head and Ears in Debt,

      That in a Gaol he's forc'd to end his Life,

      The first great Comfort flowing from a Wife.

      Another that has got a Handsome Wife,

      Makes her the only Heaven of his Life;

      Keeps her Extravagantly, Fine and Gay,

      And never thinks she makes too much away;

      The Treats and Balls she is invited to,

      And he good Man, consents that she shall go:

      Believes her Company is much desired,

      And's proud to think she shou'd be so admired:

      Until at length, by chance he finds the Truth,

      And catches her with some enamour'd Youth:

      Surpriz'd—but dare not make the Matter known,

      Conceals her Shame, that he may hide his own;

      He ever after spends an anxious Life,

      Heavy his Sorrow, and as Light his Wife.

      Scarce has another three full Moons beguil'd,

      But that his forward Spouse has prov'd with Child,

      And now begins the drugery of Life,

      Lo! the vast Comforts of a Breeding Wife,

      Now she's grown Squeamish, such ado is kept,

      She e'en as peevish as an Ape new whipt,

      She pukes and whines, do's nothing but complain,

      And vows she'll never know the like again;

      But 'tis as Children promise to be good,

      Only remember'd while they feel the Rod.

      And now the look'd for time approaches nigh,

      And you've a thousand several Things to buy,

      The Twi-lights, Blankets, and the Lord knows what,

      To keep the Child, perhaps he never got,

      A noise of Bawdy Gossips in his Ears,

      Until his House like Billings gate appears,

      Thus amply curst, he grows discreetly dull,

      And from a Man of Sence, becomes a Fool.

      One that so fast in Hymens Net appears,

      He has been strugling in't near twenty Years:

      With Care and Toil to propagate his Store,

      Able to keep the Wolf just from the Door;

      As num'rous Offspring round his Table spread;

      Daughters for Marriage fit, and Sons for Trades,

      Is Blest with Comforts of the Marriage Bed.

      Charges encreasing daily, and the thought

      Where to get Money to dispose 'em out?

      Or then perhaps he feels the greater Curse,

      The Sons turn Sots, or Fools, the Daughters worse;

      The Wife still teezing him to do his part,

      Until he has enough to break his Heart.

      But the least pitied is your Aged Ass,

      Who tho full Sixty, wou'd for Forty pass:

      And that he may be sure a Crop to have,

      And carry Horns fresh budding to his Grave,

      On one of Twenty, blooming as a Rose,

      His dry and wither'd Carkass he bestows:

      She jilts, intrigues, and plays upon him still,

      Keeps her Gallants, and Rambles at her Will;

      Do's nothing but her Pride and Pleasure mind,

      And throws his Gold like Chaff before the Wind;

      Until at length she beggars the old Slave,

      And brings his Gray-Hairs with Sorrow to the Grave.

      The next in course is he that weds a Shrew;

      One that will talk, and wear the Breeches too;

      Governs, insults, do's what e'er she thinks fit,

      And he good Man, must to her Will submit;

      Mannages all Affairs at home, abroad,

      While he a Cypher seems, and stands for naught;

      When e'er he speaks, she snaps him, and crys,

      Pray hold your Tongue, who was't made you so wife?

      You will be prating, though you nothing know:

      This he must bear, and be contented too,

      See his Friends slighted, and must silent be,

      Till Death shall from the Torment set him free.

      Another that has liv'd some Years in Peace,

      A wedded Life—do's now in strength decrease,

      Nor able is to satisfie that Debt,

      Which Marriage claims, and Women still expect,

      Wherefore she now withdraws her Love and Care,

      Reviles, and twits him of his Slights to her;

      Makes it a daily Quarrel, flings and throws,

      And Peace is now a Stranger to his House;

      Nay, even his Servants, and his Children too,

      E'en act the same they see the Mother do,

      While he declining, and consumptive sits,

      Bears all with patience, and to all submits.

      Another Lady, nicer bred and born,

      Makes Huswif'ry, and Providence her Scorn

      Her Maid and she must to the Wells repair,

      She is not well, and goes to take the Air:

      The House to Servants she entrusts at home,

      And